


A Loving Hand

by Lucretiassister



Series: Splendors Sequels [3]
Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Animal Death, Bunnies, F/M, Fluffy Animals, reference to childhood tragedy, wildlife rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 17:34:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22001803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lucretiassister/pseuds/Lucretiassister
Summary: One warm Cornwall evening, the residents of both Nampara and Killewarren are tested when some helpless creatures unexpectedly fall into their care.
Relationships: Demelza Carne/Ross Poldark, Dwight Enys/Caroline Penvenen
Series: Splendors Sequels [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563472
Comments: 28
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This sequel takes place just weeks after the main action leaves off in Which By Its Splendors Rivals the Heavens (a Poldark Modern AU), but one needn't have read the first work to follow along here.

August 2017

“Fucking hell!” Demelza grunted as she came through the front door of Nampara, slamming it behind her with her booted foot. “Don’t!” she growled. “Don’t _even_ look at me like that...I can’t believe you. This!”

“What in god’s name?” Ross came out of the library, pen still in hand, and looked at her standing in the hallway. 

Her eyes were slits of fury, her teeth clenched. She had stopped dead in her own muddy tracks and even though she was still, he could tell her body was vibrating on the inside, as though any second she might explode into a million tiny particles of rage. Then he saw her favourite jumper, cradled in her arms over her stomach--and covered in blood. 

“My love?!” he cried and raced towards her.

 _“Your_ fucking dog, Ross! He did this,” she said and kicked off her boots. Her trembling hands, sheathed in a mismatched pair of gardening gloves, opened the bundle ever so slightly to show him the quivering furry mass inside it. She was harbouring some sort of animal, and from the blood and her emotional state, he sensed at once there had been some sort of accident or violence that had compelled her to intervene.

“Demelza, tell me--are _you_ hurt?” he asked, moving closer. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears. Sometimes she could be so impulsive and he imagined it wouldn't be too far-fetched for her to have shoved her hand into a wild snapping maw to save some innocent creature. 

“I’m fine, it’s she that’s hurt!” she said, glancing down at the precious cargo held close to her. “Garrick caught the mother--and killed her instantly--then tried to weasel his way inside the nest to get the babies too. Can you just get him out of here, Ross? He's making them more anxious--they can hear him and probably smell him...he’s not just helping things.” Now more distressed than angry, her voice wobbled fretfully. 

“Of course," Ross said and took the dog by his collar back out to the yard. The beast was not happy to be separated from his well-hunted prize or from his mistress. Since the first night Demelza had slept over, nearly five months ago, Garrick made it clear his attachments lay firmly with her. And it seemed since she’d moved permanently into Nampara weeks before, he no longer heeded any of Ross’s calls but followed Demelza everywhere. 

She in turn adored the dog, caring for him as though they’d belonged together for years. 

“Oh Garrick...have you the nasty, nasty tangles in your fur again? Let me comb those dreadful snarls out,” she’d purr, taking the wretched beast in her lap for a fastidious grooming. Other times it was Ross she’d reprove on the dog’s behalf. “Oh Ross, don’t speak so sharply to him. He doesn’t understand, the poor boy. It’s not his fault it’s so muddy outside--and he only wants a cuddle and he’s looking for your approval,” she’d say after the dog jumped on Ross’s dress trousers with filthy paws.

So for Demelza to refer to her beloved Garrick as ‘ _your dog_ ’ meant that uncharacteristically, she found his behaviour unforgivable today. Ross would have laughed at this reversal if it weren’t for the serious scene he knew was waiting inside.

“Lay low, old boy,” he advised Garrick, who resented being banished to the yard. “She’ll come around when she’s ready--but you’d better have some affectionate moves on hand, just in case.”

\---

“What can I do?” Ross asked when he rejoined Demelza inside. She’d moved into the kitchen where she’d laid out some old newspaper on the table. The sullied jumper was now lining an old crate and he could see that it was not just one baby rabbit but five that were in her care. He also noted the heap of kindling dumped on the floor by the hearth--that explained how she’d managed to find a crate so quickly.

“I have a feeling they need to be kept warm--even though it’s August, I don’t think they’re old enough to regulate their own body temperature yet. Their mum would have still been been helping with that…I can’t tell if their ears feel cold,” she said but wisely did not remove her gloves.

“I didn’t know you knew so much about rabbits,” he marveled.

“Oh fuck, believe me, I don’t…I’m going by instinct here, Ross,” she said, laughing lightly. “Birds I know. In fact the prevailing wisdom regarding rescuing an abandoned nest of chicks is don’t.”

Ross was pleased to see her humour return. The rage had clearly calmed and she’d moved into a more deliberate problem-solving mode.

“Maybe get a tea towel and warm it in the microwave just a bit?” she suggested. “Oh no, not that one. I’m rather fond of that one,” she said when he’d held up a towel adorned with a hand-stitched yellow ribbon at the bottom. 

Now it was Ross’s turn to laugh.

“Are you really telling me you have a favourite tea towel?” he asked.

“I know, it’s a rather adult thing to do,” she managed to tease back.

This old one had been part of a set, although most of its mates had long since vanished. Years ago someone’s loving hand and skilled needlework had embellished them with the names of the months.

Ross saw this as a marker of how she’d really settled into his space- _-their_ space--that she’d protect the ancient Nampara tea towels from misuse. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the head.

She leaned into it and smiled weakly.

The blood, it turned out, was not from Demelza nor any of the babies but from Garrick’s attack on the mother. He was in the process of ripping her throat when Demelza had caught up with him, and once she’d pried his jaw open, he’d sprinted off to dig his snout into the nearby warren. Fortunately the babies didn’t seem to have suffered any visible wounds. One kit was a bit soggy from Garrick’s mouth, but that seemed to be just his drool--Demelza had managed to pull him away before he could sink his teeth into the littlest bunny’s flesh. 

One by one now, Demelza picked each up to examine them more closely, her brow furrowed as she puzzled out her next move.

“Well?” Ross asked.

“I suppose we should check their vitals but I don't know their baseline for comparison. I’ll need to look that up. Has Dwight gone home yet?” she asked.

Dwight Enys was the founding principle of CEA--Cornwall Ecological Associates--the environmental consulting firm that let space in one of the outbuildings on the Nampara property. Formerly her boss--and before that her teacher--Dwight was now Demelza’s business partner and remained a dear friend to both her and Ross. Ostensibly he resided at the Killewarren gatehouse, but that was simply where he hung his clothes and received his post. Most nights he spent in the huge manor house proper, at the behest of its owner, who happened to be his girlfriend, Caroline Penvenen.

“The Defender is still out there--or at least it was just a minute ago,” Ross replied. No doubt they’d have heard its beastly engine roar had it been driven off.

“Can you stay here with them, Ross? But don’t touch them with your bare hands. If you need to pick them up, use these,” she instructed and handed Ross the pair of Marigolds their housekeeper Prudie used when washing up.


	2. Chapter 2

When Demelza returned to the kitchen she had Dwight in tow, his laptop tucked under his arm.

Dwight wore a serious expression on his otherwise boyish face, approaching this situation as though he were remediating Japanese knotwood or conducting a protected species survey. Cool, professional, and competent--but also mildly amused at Demelza’s excitement and happy to indulge her determination to save the baby bunnies.

“We’ll need to weigh them,” Dwight suggested.

“I believe we have a kitchen scale somewhere,” Demelza began, then stopped when she saw Ross’s grey face.

“What is it?” she asked. “Ross?

He said nothing but walked slowly towards her, his gloved hands gently cupping the ball of fine brown fluff. He held it out to her and she could see it was still.

“But...what? Oh Ross!” she cried. She was surprised to find a tear rolling down her cheek. “Oh the poor thing. And her mum wasn’t with her--nor was I--oh, to be all alone!”

“I was...with her,” Ross said softly. “I held her in my hands.”

“Did she seem scared? Not of you, I mean, but of what happened?”

“She was quiet. Peaceful. Her racing heart slowed down and then just stopped altogether.”

“I wish I'd had the chance to say good-bye. Oh Ross! I’m so sorry that you had to…” She put her arms around him and rested her head on his shoulder, touched that he’d been so tender to the little thing in its last moments.

“Well you’re not going to like this, Demelza, but it says here that fewer than 10% of orphaned rabbits survive a week,” Dwight read from his laptop.

“Ok, that’s only a bit discouraging. What’s the advice on what to do with a found nest?”

“Leave it.” 

“Oh.”

“And call a trained wildlife habilitator.”

“I was afraid of that. But until we can find one? How old do you even reckon they are?”

“They have a full coat…” Dwight observed then looked back at his screen. “Tell me, their eyes--are they fully opened?”

“Yes,” Ross said before Demelza could answer.

“That’s good--it means they are at least 10 days old. In the wild they are weaned at around three weeks, so we’re halfway there. The care they’ll need sounds similar to that for orphaned cats--you know…”

“Great,” Demelza laughed.

“What?” Ross asked.

“Kittens need their mum’s help to poo--and even pee--so in place of a mum to lick them all over you have to do a lot of massaging of their wee bits to get things ‘moving’...it’s smelly and tedious,” she explained. “And what about feeding?” she asked Dwight.

“It looks like you can give a bunny a queen’s milk substitute mixed with goatsmilk. But not too much. It’s the misfeeding and bloat that are the greatest dangers now.” Dwight scrolled down and scanned for more of the information he was seeking. “I wish we had a stethoscope…” he added.

“I have one,” Ross said. “I mean it was my father’s. I have no idea why he had it in his possession--as far as I know he didn't use it on himself. It’s in the library, in the cabinet near the hearth.”

“As long as I live at Nampara,” Demelza shook her head once Dwight left them to go search the library, “I’ll forever be amazed by Joshua Poldark’s collection of odd bits of…”

“Junk?” Ross offered, then he smiled at her. 

And although neither of them said it, they both were hoping the same thing--that she’d in fact be living at Nampara long. They never talked about the distant future and instead made the most of the present together. Still she had settled in quickly, and wordlessly claimed possession of so many things. It wasn’t just the tea towels and the dog, but the garden, Prudie’s loyalty, even the jumper she’d carried her little wards home in had at one point belonged to Ross’s father. 

“Let’s check the others and see how they are faring. Then I’d like to...it sounds silly but maybe let’s take this one back to the cliffside? I was so anxious to get them to safety that I haven’t had a chance to bury her mum yet,” she said softly, wrapping her hand around Ross’s.

“It’s not silly at all, my love.” Ross’s voice was a low whisper. He looked up at her with dark eyes then carefully laid the soft little body down on the newspaper covered table.

“Here, Ross, wrap her in this,” Demelza said, and handed him the treasured tea towel. Some ancient Poldark had embroidered ‘July’ along the yellow ribbon and the pink thread had held up after so many years. “Seems fitting for her final resting.”


	3. Chapter 3

Dwight was especially careful when he touched the brakes going around the curves in the road. He’d already moved the little biscuit box to the floor when he saw it was in danger of sliding off the passenger seat, but didn't want the creature in his charge to suffer any undo anxiety from being jostled about; the engine noise was disturbing enough. Dwight wasn’t looking forward to his mission but he knew it was the humane thing to do.

They’d all agreed.

When they’d examined the four surviving bunnies, they’d found the three smallest were in fact the heartiest. The one that had slipped away hadn’t even been the one who was soggy from Garrick but the largest of the litter that had seemed just fine--until she wasn’t. And the one that Dwight had in his custody now also appeared at first glance to be well developed and strong. But when Dwight listened to her with Joshua’s old stethoscope, he thought something was amiss. He was no vet so he couldn’t be sure but it sounded as though there was an extra whoosh with every little thump. A murmur perhaps? It was hard to tell with such a racing heart beat. Then when Dwight put her back in the crate to attend to her littermates, the fluffy little body gave a frightening spasm.

“Oh god, is it a…” but before Demelza could ask the question, the creature convulsed several more times in rapid succession.

“It looks like seizure,” Dwight said. “See what you can find about what that might mean. But I doubt it will be good…”

“The list is long! It could be anything--a viral infection, an ingested toxin, a congenital abnormality--and all are fatal,” Demelza sighed in despair after searching for only a minute. “Fucking hell, is she having another one? Oh, I hate to see her suffer.”

“Me too, I’m thinking maybe she doesn’t have to…” Dwight put just a hint of the thought out there to see how it was received before he’d continue.

“Yes, you’re right but do it quickly.” Demelza looked away.

“Good god, _I’m_ not going to do it!” he cried. “I meant take her to the vet to be put down. Did you think I was going to bash her brains in or break her neck?”

“Well, no, I couldn’t quite imagine that, Dwight, unless you felt you had no choice,” she conceded.

“We’re not out in the field so it’s not the only option. Listen, on my way home I’m supposed to pick up Horace’s asthma medication from Dr. Leggett,” he began. Horace was Caroline’s pug that only months before Dwight had referred to as a “brachycephalic tyrant” and repeatedly questioned how a dog that lived in the country could be asthmatic--for surely something so unnatural must be a result of over indulgent humans. Now he was as devoted to the dog as he was to its mistress--he’d accepted quickly that it was simply part of the deal. “I can ring the clinic and see if while I’m there they can perform…”

“Thank you, Dwight,” Ross said, clearly relieved that he wasn’t being called upon for DYI euthanasia. He’d apparently had his share of death for one afternoon and had poured them all a wee glass of Connemara single malt to both toast the bunny that died in his hands and to soothe his own rattled spirits.

  
  


Now the battered old Defender that Dwight continued to drive--despite Caroline’s insistence that he deserved something more _dignified_ \--veered east, so the bright August sun was no longer in his eyes. It was still hours before it would set fully but as it considered its descent towards the horizon, it was melting into a pool of orange yolk. Any other day Dwight would have admired its intensity and marveled at the glorious summer weather they’d been enjoying for weeks. But this evening, he was anxious to be done with his gloomy errand and finally get home.

He glanced down at the box on the floor and subconsciously listened for any stirrings that of course would not be heard over the growl of the motor. Just then his mobile rang and seeing that it was Caroline, he pulled over and took the call.

“My darling! I hope I caught you before you went too far on your futile quest,” she began brightly.

“What?” he replied, bewildered. Had Demelza rung and told her about the bunnies? Then he thought it more likely Caroline was referring to something else entirely. “I’m about ten minutes from Dr. Leggett’s--I’ve a bit of a delay--but I’ll be home as soon as I can,” he promised. 

He had neglected to call ahead to see if the clinic could accommodate him but doubted they’d turn away an orphaned bunny in such distress. But if they were busy? At the very least he could leave his charge with the staff and they could attend to the dreaded task whenever it was convenient for them. She wasn’t a pet so surely they wouldn’t expect him to stay with her, would they?

“Well, it is fortuitous timing then that I caught you. I forgot the clinic in Truro closes early on Wednesday but opens early on Thursday. I’ll just pop by on my way out tomorrow morning. So now you can come straight home,” she explained.

“Will Horace be okay overnight?” Dwight thought to ask. Then the magnitude of that question hit him--his genuine concern for the dog had come yet again without external prompting. He let out a low chuckle. 

“What’s so funny, Dr. Enys?” she asked. “Yes he’ll be fine, he has enough Medrone left for one more day...unless you’d like to drive up to St. Agnes? The clinic there is open late tonight.” She was teasing and didn't really expect him to turn around and go back north.

But perhaps he should. What about his passenger? He lifted the box lid to peer in and saw she seemed calm--she was breathing and scooted out from the corner once some daylight hit her little nest. She’d had no more seizures before they left Nampara but he had no way of knowing what transpired on the drive thus far.

Dwight sat, frozen, unsure of what to do next. Could this little thing make it through the night and was it cruel to ask her to try? He hesitated explaining his business to Caroline over the phone--in person maybe, but not like this.

“Dwight?” Caroline asked, sensing some uncertainty but not knowing its cause. 

“I’ll be right home,” he assured her.

\----

He hadn’t expected to be met at the drive.

Caroline was wearing a sundress with thin straps that tied at the shoulders and a full, tiered skirt that went well past her knees. Her blonde hair hung loose down her back and she was barefoot, carefully avoiding the crushed gravel and staying to the thick grass along the edges. She didn't look like a young girl exactly but there was something timeless about the way she was dressed whilst out enjoying the warm summer evening. He almost expected her to turn cartwheels or spin around in circles until she fell dizzy on the soft cool lawn.

 _This is what it means to live in the country_ , he thought to himself, switching off the ignition and breathing in lungfuls of fresh air. Then he glanced up at the imposing house behind her. _And to have the resources to support such leisure, of course._

She moved quickly towards him, eager to greet him with her own sunny affection. He stepped out of the car, and to save her feet any further anguish, took three long steps and pulled her into an embrace.

The suddenness of his strong frame pressed so close against her warm, sweet smelling body caused a jolt of excitement to run through him that caught him off guard. He kissed her, his mouth lingering on hers until he’d found his bearings.

“Oh,” she sighed, apparently also left off-kilter and breathless by the moment. “The little patient is inside," she finally said.

"What?" Dwight asked. What did she know about the sick creature in his care? Then he saw she must be referring to Horace, and took her hand in his, raising it to his lips.

“Resting on my favourite velvet pouf which is of course next to the new hypoallergenic dog bed I just bought him,” she replied.

Dwight laughed. Horace notoriously eschewed all manner of things meant for pets and instead preferred human furnishings--and human food. Did he even realise he was a dog? 

“But come, Dr. Enys, I have some absolutely lovely steaks I thought I’d grill for our dinner. We can eat on the veranda tonight,” she smiled proudly.

“I was unaware of your expertise cooking out-of-doors, my dear,” he said. “But then again, you amaze me every day, don’t you?” He kissed her hand yet again.

“Well I may not be doing all the actual cooking. Not while Baker is here to do it for me--and you know I think he really enjoys it,” she said referring to the senior most member of the skilled Killewarren staff. “And you are charged with picking the wine,” she winked.

“Erm...just give me a moment,” he stalled. “I’d like to change my clothes and put some _things_ away,” he added vaguely.

His plan was to take the box up to his rooms in the gatehouse, and once he was convinced his little friend was continuing to rest easy, he’d join Caroline in the big house for dinner. He could check on her later--perhaps nature would take its course and the furry thing would just slip away easily like her sister had done.

But just as he lifted the parcel from the Defender’s floor, Caroline turned around, and of course curious, came over to peek.

“Victoria biscuits?” she asked with a raised brow, then spied the air holes punched in the lid.

Dwight wasn’t sure why he’d been so hesitant to tell her or to show her what was inside. Perhaps he wanted to protect her from the grisly details--the certain future the little thing faced in the hours to come. But it was too late now. And if she was his partner in all other facets of life, then she deserved to know the truth.

“Don’t touch her with your bare hands,” he said, carefully lifting the lid. “In the boot there are some latex gloves we use in the field. Grab a pair or two. She’s wild and could have no end of parasites. Or worse, if she bit you…” he started.

“Oh Dwight, she’s so very precious. Bring her inside so we can look at her properly,” she whispered and gently closed the lid.

He followed her to the humid solarium off the dining room where Caroline’s late uncle used to raise orchids, and explained most of the story to her, although there were a few details, such as the heart defect and the nearly hopeless survival rate assigned to the whole litter, that he neglected to mention. But he was clear that this one was not expected to live through the night and Caroline had taken the news bravely.

She’d found a larger cardboard tray that had at some point held plantings and carefully she set the biscuit box inside it. She was pleased that the bunny had a pen now, in case it jumped out of the smaller nest but Dwight didn't have the heart to remind her that the creature most likely would not regain enough vitality to leap around. Then again, she had moved a bit since they’d brought her inside and she looked more active and alert than she had at Nampara. Maybe they were wrong to write her off so quickly.

“And you know she’s a girl?” Caroline asked.

“No, not really. They are still too young to see for sure,” he laughed. Back at Nampara, Demelza had somewhat randomly assigned sexes to the litter and he and Ross had just gone along with her unquestioningly. 

“And there were five, you say? Poor Demelza,” Caroline said. “She must be beside herself with worry.”

“Yes, and guilt. She feels responsible now for their survival but I think she also knows Garrick was only acting on instinct. She was rather remorseful for having scolded him so. Caroline, speaking of canine instinct...”

“Yes, we’ll keep big old Horace away,” Caroline said somewhat dreamily and touched the bunny with her gloved finger. 

But there was little need to worry. Horace was an unlike Garrick as he could possibly be. The likelihood of the pug chasing anything--even a morsel of steak thrown his way--was slim to none.

“Okay, little Sarah, you need some rest,” Caroline spoke to the bunny. “Don’t worry though, you won’t be alone.”

“Sarah?” Dwight laughed lightly. “Isn’t that your aunt’s name?”

“Yes, but why shouldn’t she be Sarah as well? She deserves the honour of a dignified name, doesn’t she? Besides I have a good reason…” Caroline stood up and quietly padded across the floor. Dwight could just see her through the doorway rummaging through the huge mahogany highboy in the hallway. Its ancient drawers squeaked as she yanked them open until she found what she sought.

After only a few minutes, she returned to his side with an arm full of notebooks and sketchbooks.

“ _A Tale of Two Bunnies, More Adventures with Caroline and Sarah_ …” he read as she handed them over one by one. “Caroline, what are these?”

“My mother made them for me when I was little,” she said. “I told you she was an artist.”

“Yes but I thought she favoured abstraction?”

“She did but she was also a well-trained draughtsman... _draughtsperson_. She did anatomical illustrations whilst in art school for extra pocket money, or so she said. Why she didn't just ask her family for a bigger allowance? Well, I guess I understand the need for independence. Anyway, few little girls want an expressionist story book,” she explained.

“I’d have guessed you were unlike most little girls, Caroline,” he said. He was enjoying watching her now as she sat cross legged on the floor between him and the bunny box. She thumbed through the sketchbooks and smiled. 

“You can see her attention to detail but there is also so much affection and humour in these figures. It’s like Albrecht Durer meets Beatrix Potter.”

“What an extraordinary gift to you. And you kept them all these years,” he remarked.

“Stick around, Dr. Enys. There are centuries of mementos in this old house.”

He was about to reply that he’d like that very much--to stick around--when she continued in her story telling.

“When I was young I wanted a pet rabbit more than anything. But my step father was allergic to all animals. So she started making these illustrations for me. Then they grew into a series of stories. You see little Sarah, she’s the baby sister, is always getting into silly scrapes and it’s Caroline who saves her each time. In this one she fell off her sled, in this one she tries to cross a busy roadway and gets stuck on the other side, and in this one she is sick in bed with a fever.”

“ _A sister’s hand is a helping hand_ ,” he read.

“They all end like that. A sister’s hand is a friendly hand, a healing hand, a loving hand, and so on. Not so subtle, right? It was her way of training me, I suppose.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, to be a proper older sister. She was pregnant when she died, you see. I not only lost my mother but my unborn sister as well,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Caroline, I never knew that,” he said softly.

“Then once I came to live with my uncles, they made sure I always had whatever pet I desired. I no longer wanted a rabbit but that’s when I got my first pug.”

“Horace wasn’t your first?” Dwight sensed it unwise to pry more about this childhood tragedy and followed her lead. It wasn’t the first time she’d used Horace as a screen when uncomfortable discussing herself.

“Heavens no. Nor shall he be my last,” she said with a playful twist of her beautiful lips.


	4. Chapter 4

“What are those?” Dwight asked, unable to make out exactly what Caroline was clutching in her right hand.

“Mascara brushes,” she explained and laid them on the table near the window. “Cleaned of course. I rang Demelza--and I told her about the deviation from the original plan and little Sarah’s impromptu sleep over at Killewarren. She understood, you know.”

“Oh?”

“Well she managed to reach a wildlife rehabilitator who suggested using mascara brushes on the babies. It’s a soothing motion not unlike their own mother’s grooming. Okay, little Sarah, what’s your preference, Dior or Chanel?”

“And is the rehabilitator coming to Nampara to pick up the rest of the litter?” Dwight asked. It would be just his luck to have a dying bunny overnight, while Demelza and Ross were released from all obligation. Although maybe he could convince the rehabilitator to come to Killewarren tonight as well. It was now almost eight--what kind of hours did they keep?

“No, the one they managed to reach is currently out of town but said he’d check in with them when he got back in a few days. He seemed satisfied that there was nothing else to be done immediately. Of course Demelza hadn’t said anything about this one because well, she thought you’d already _taken care_ of her,” Caroline explained.

“Oh Caroline, I don’t know what to think. Were we wrong to not find a vet straightaway? She was clearly suffering so much earlier and well, she seems a bit better-- _maybe_ \--but is that just wishful thinking?” He knew he needed to be more measured and track observable data, not just vague impressions. “At least she hasn’t had another seizure. But then there’s still her heart,” he said.

“Her heart? You didn't tell me anything about her heart. Dwight?”

“I’m sorry. I think she has a murmur or some sort of defect. No, I didn't mention it. I don’t really know why. I suppose there didn't seem any good reason to trouble you further...but I see I was wrong not to, Caroline.”

“Well Dwight, we’ll have to offer her all the care and companionship possible and keep her comfortable tonight.” And with that she picked up the tiny creature and began brushing her with slow, gentle strokes. 

\----

They kept Sarah close for the remainder of the evening. She had one more unmistakable spasm, but Dwight was convinced it wasn’t as severe as the seizures he’d witnessed at Nampara. Still it was disturbing for both of them to watch and left them on edge. 

Hastily they ate the lovely dinner prepared by Baker, but not on the veranda in the warm August night as Caroline had planned. Instead they sat in the damp solarium, eating and drinking at the old wrought iron table in watchful silence. Once their dishes were cleared away, they rejoined Sarah on the floor, taking turns brushing her silky fur. 

Unlike her litter mates whose coats had been grey-brown, hers appeared lighter. She was more of a fawn colour, with some patches of white along her breast, and when the soft fluff caught the light she seemed almost ethereal. Her little eyes shone bright and she remained alert, ears twitching, responding to their ginger touches.

Dwight regularly checked the skin at the back of her neck but it sprung back quickly, a sign that dehydration was not a concern, for the time being at least. But he remained keenly aware that this merely offered them false optimism. He could only hope that when the inevitable decline began, it would be fast.

He was about to put this thought into words when Caroline spoke.

“Since her time is surely limited, let’s take her out to see the stars one last time. I’d hate to think her final impressions were of dull cardboard walls.” She’d already gotten to her feet, and having put on an old cardigan that presumably belonged to Eleanor, one of the Killewarren staff, she carefully slipped Sarah into the large pocket.

Dwight worried a cool breeze might be enough to destabilize the bunny’s body temperature but then recalled she was a wild creature--perhaps being indoors was what was unnatural. 

They stepped through the large glass doors, across the dark lawn and into the night. The sun had finally set leaving a dusky purple sky around them, a few twinkles were already visible to the east. Dwight had come to learn that Caroline liked to gaze upon the stars most evenings before she retired.

“It reminds me there are things far grander than I...cold, bright mysteries too keep us wondering,” she’d say. Dwight wondered what she was pondering tonight.

“Don’t be in such a hurry to leave us little one,” she whispered, her hand covering the furry ball in her pocket. Then she sighed, perhaps suppressing a sniffle, before she shook her head with conviction and turned to face Dwight. “You needn’t worry, Dr. Enys,” she said with a familiar wry smile. “I shall take this in stride with all the dignity and stoicism expected of a person of my breeding…”

“Caroline,” he began, then thought twice of chiding her. If speaking with ironic distance was her way of coping with stressful emotions, then who was he change her? No doubt, she’d had years--and good reason--to perfect this script. Instead he took her free hand in his and squeezed it tightly.

_A caring hand._

\-----

Dwight blinked his eyes, trying to focus in the dark solarium. He’d drifted off despite his best intentions to keep a vigil at Sarah’s side. He saw the candle Caroline had lit earlier had gone out--or had been blown out intentionally. 

“What time is it?” he whispered. He could see Caroline’s eyes gleaming in the dim and knew she’d remained awake.

“It’s just turned ten,” she said softly. She had the bunny in her lap but she looked out across the room, staring blankly at a faraway wall.

“My love? Darling?” he asked.

“Yes...she’s gone,” Caroline said. 

Dwight scrambled closer at once and put his arm around her. Slowly she lowered her head to his shoulder and sighed again, but this time did not follow it with any cold, distancing wit.

“Let me take her,” Dwight whispered.

“No, let her stay with me awhile,” Caroline replied.

Of course. There was no reason to rush.


	5. Chapter 5

Early the next morning, Caroline and Dwight piled into the Defender and began their solemn drive northwest towards the cliffs along the coast. Caroline had the biscuit box on her lap--the fluffy body inside was now wrapped in a white serviette trimmed with fine lace, retrieved from the Killewarren linen stores. Horace was left at home, apparently still miffed that for the past twelve hours a little bunny had supplanted him in Caroline’s affections.

The light rain that had started at dawn grew heavier as they approached the drive of the old Poldark house. And while yesterday’s rich sun refused to make an appearance, now hiding stubbornly behind a bank of dark grey clouds, smoke rising from the Nampara chimney helped to make the otherwise grim morning a bit more cheering.

Demelza met them in the yard holding a large umbrella and wearing an old yellow mack that was several sizes too big for her, but would serve to keep her dry nonetheless. 

“Oh my dears,” she said and wrapped her arms around Caroline. “I’m so sorry you had to...”

“No, Demelza. I am grateful we had the chance to be with the little thing and offer her a safe haven before her next big journey,” Caroline said. 

Demelza raised one incredulous brow and peered at Dwight, expecting a cynical comment from Caroline to follow that surprisingly didn’t come.

“I think she was comfortable and didn't seem to suffer,” Dwight reassured Demelza.

“Tell me--the others?” Caroline asked tentatively.

“They seem well! You should have seen Ross feeding them this morning. He was so patient with the eyedropper--and with the ‘massaging’ that came next,” she laughed. “Really, he has a gentle and nurturing touch.”

“Of course he does. Speaking of gentle, I thought you might be in need of more of these,” Caroline said, and pulled a handful of old mascara brushes from her pocket.

“Oh, I do--I only had the one! Well, I can take her from here,” she said. “No need for you two to slog through all this mud.”

“No, Demelza, I’d like to see the...site,” Caroline said. “Where you’d buried her mother.”

“And her sister,” Demelza replied.

“Yes, I’d forgotten. She’ll be with her sister now, won’t she?” Caroline said. “Dwight said you called her Julia? And the others--have they names yet?”

“Harriet, Claude, and John. All rather respectable old names, if you ask me,” Demelza smiled. 

“May they live to be great-great-grandparents,” Caroline said.

“Well providing they do live, it shouldn’t take long for that to happen, will it? I mean they _are_ rabbits,” Demelza laughed.

“Come, my darling,” Dwight said, and with one arm he held the umbrella over Caroline while wrapping the other around her. 

“ _So many loving hands,_ ” Caroline whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> As always I am indebted to Winston Graham and Debbie Horsfield whose words I borrow over and over. Savvy readers/viewers will recognize dialogue from both The Angry Tide and the series (s1 and s4 in particular).
> 
> I hope no one finds this rendering of Sarah and Julia a cop out. It was one way of weaving them into this AU but still maintaining my commitment to (relatively) happy endings.
> 
> And yes, I know Durer’s watercolor was of a hare, not a rabbit. 
> 
> Please oh please forgive this writer of any major wildlife rescue faux pas I’ve caused these characters to commit. I have zero personal experience with bunnies (but strangely have rescued a number of owls over the years) and used these sources as guides: https://rabbit.org/faq-orphaned-baby-bunnies/  
> and http://rabbitwise.org/emergencies.html
> 
> All mistakes were made in the name of fanfiction.  
> Remember folks to always contact a trained wildlife rehabilitator! 
> 
> Visit me at https://nervousladytraveler.tumblr.com/ if you want to continue the conversation!


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